


I Bet That You'd Look Good On The Dancefloor

by smolonde



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Self-Indulgent, Trans Male Character, dirk strider cockblocks himself, sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolonde/pseuds/smolonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stop making the eyes at me I'll stop making the eyes at you/ But what it is that surprises me is that I don't really want you too<br/>.....<br/>Well I bet that you'd look good on the dancefloor/ Don't know if you're looking for romance or/ I don't know what you're looking for/<br/>.....<br/>And there ain't no love, no Montagues or Capulets/ Just banging tunes and DJ sets/ And dirty dance floors, and dreams of naughtiness</p><p>This is grossly self-indulgent and I regret nothing</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Bet That You'd Look Good On The Dancefloor

Your name is Caliborn English, and holy fuck, you are glad you came out tonight.

You’re half a glass into your third scotch, and you’ve already gotten several women interested in you. You’re leaning against the bar, trying to decide which one you should go home with tonight. The blonde with the lip piercing is hot, and the redhead has a smile that could kill you. You’re not convinced that either of these girls is that worthwhile, and you doubt they could keep up with you. As much as your head is telling you to head out with both of them on your arm, you decide that you can look a little more. Hell, maybe you shouldn’t even hook up with anyone tonight, maybe you should just head home and get some rest.

You turn back to the dancefloor and all the thoughts of relaxation at home go flying out of your head.

The first thing you notice is build. His shoulders are not as broad as yours; they’re slender, but they show a power and strength that you wouldn’t see in most people. Continuing your scan across the body, you take in a pair of black skinnies and Converse, a black wifebeater on a toned torso, and blond hair that sticks up in oddly soft-looking spikes. Then you focus your attention on the body’s face.

The young man standing in front of you has triangle shades on, but from behind them you swear you can see a glint of amber… or is that orange? His tanned skin is freckled lightly, especially over the bridge of his nose and his shoulders. His nose is strong, outlining the sharpness of his cheekbones, which you think could probably cut someone. His lips are full, basically beckoning someone to kiss them. And oh god, that ass. You can imagine your hands gripping the man’s slender waist, sliding down to his denim-clad ass and grabbing it firmly, and you have to quell a full-body shiver. You’re an ass man for sure, but this boy has an ass the likes of which you have never seen. And…. You’re pretty sure that he’s sporting a semi.

You stand at the bar, totally transfixed by his movements, how low he can get to the floor. The DJ is playing some kind of electro-pop set, and the guy’s body moves smoothly, hips gyrating and arms moving, his entire torso almost segmented as he rolls it. You can see the tendons in his neck stand out as he throws his head back, and you imagine him doing the same against a wall, or against a set of pillows. Those tendons have your name written on them; hopefully by the end of the night, your name will be spelled out on them in black and blue.

And then he looks straight at you.

 Every nerve ending in you lights on fire. You stare right back, not even bothering to conceal the hunger in your eyes. You look at him, orange eyes meeting coppery brown, and as he looks at you from head to toe, taking in your dark skin and the sheen of sweat on your skin, he slowly draws himself up, his expressionless lips separating to show a soft pink tongue running along his bottom lip. Then, in a flash, he’s gone.

You gasp audibly, purposefully striding to the place where he stood a moment ago, looking around. Your eyes dart from dancing girls to the DJ table to the bar, but you can’t find him. Then you feel a thin arm snaking around your waist. You turn your head, but the arm disappears and you can’t find its owner anywhere.

Then, in a clear spot on the dancefloor, you see a flash of light reflecting off black shades. He is standing almost completely still, his body moving in rhythm with the DJ’s set. He walks to you, moving his hips, and the only thing you can think is ‘delectable’.

“Is there any reason a handsome stranger is following me around? I can’t help feeling as if I’m being stalked.” His voice is a dark baritone.

“You’re obviously trying to seduce me; moving your hips like that, giving me bedroom eyes through those glasses.” As you speak, he’s touching you, running his hands up your shirt. You can see from the glint in his eyes that he’s definitely had a few drinks himself.

“Is that right? You’re definitely looking for something.”

“Why don’t you tell me what I’m looking for? Or maybe tell me what you’re looking for.” You’re skirting around the elephant in the room; your pants are getting tight and you’re sweating.

He notices, looking down. “That’s quite the boner, buddy.” He laughs. “Getting excited, are we?”

You sputter in outrage. “You—you have one too!”

He looks at you, raising one eyebrow. “This is a packer, dumbass. It’s semi-flaccid.”

“…..Why are you walking around in public with a semi-flaccid packer in your pants?” You’re confused, and you want to laugh, but his look gives you pause.

“I’m trans, dumbass, why else would I be wearing a packer?” He frowns.

“That’s not what I’m saying. Why are you wearing a _semi-flaccid_ packer? Why are you walking around with a boner? Do you wear the same one every day?” You give a bemused smile.

“No, it’s for the irony. Also, I just wear it when I want to attract attention.” He looks embarrassed, and you chuckle.

“That. Is the nerdiest thing. I have ever heard.” Your apraxia starts to show through your laughter; the pauses between your words are present and obvious.

“No, it’s a subconscious desire.”

“You are. A pretentious asshole.”

“No, you are.” A pause after the two of you stop bickering, and he speaks again. “I just shot any chances of getting laid tonight, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Entirely.” But you can’t help being distracted by his pretty eyes and his formerly cocky expression turning into embarrassment. “But we could get out of here and go somewhere else.”

He nods, the left corner of his mouth lifting into a half smile. “I’d like that.”

And you wrap your arm around his waist, surprisingly savoring the feeling of warmth that rushes through you.

**Author's Note:**

> Trans Dirk is so good honestly. And I love the fact that he cockblocks himself just because he's a fucking nerd who walks around with a semi-hard dick.


End file.
